As soon as I heard furtive shuffling in the bathroom I knew My Fucking Father was on one of his cleaning jags. He's leaving for Vegas Tuesday, and like he always does, he wants to leave things in the house spic and span, even though 1) he's only gone for three days and 2) who cares if things are clean?
As such, I knew I was going to get it from him the second I opened the door. Had no choice; had to mow the lawn before going to the U. soccer game this afternoon. And like clockwork, he went into his bullshit lecturing again:
"Where are you going?"
"Yeah, I'm going to mow the lawn."
"OK, well, as soon as you're done, you need to clean up your room, pick up your papers."
"Sure," I said, pointedly ignoring what he said, putting my headphones on and walking down the stairs.
Well, My Fucking Father wasn't having any of that. He angrily stepped away from scrubbing whatever the hell he wanted to scrub in the bathroom to read me the Riot Act. "You are 40 years old now! I had the contractor measure your windows, and your stuff was in his way!" Oh my God, I don't want to make you look bad in front of some fucking contractor!
You douchecanoe. And what the hell was he offering me salad for lunch for?
So I had no choice but to "clean" up my bedroom. But there was no way I was going to toss all my shit away. I mean, it was my shit. I need to put it in storage. But how was I going to sneak it past My Fucking Father, who was eating salad in the dining room?
I don't know if what I came up with worked. I threw all my stuff into a bag, and I went out to the recycling bin out back, but I put my things next to the door and instead opened the side door. I then went back inside, took my car keys (should have grabbed those right away, in retrospect) and went out through the front door. While My Fucking Father was taking a phone call from my uncle, I hurriedly threw all my stuff in the back of my car. I then turned on my car and then turned it off to create the ruse that I "forgot" something in the recycling bin. That's because I needed an excuse to put the bar back in the side door. So I went back inside, went through the back, went to the door, bolted it back up, reached inside the bin and yanked out a section of the Star Tribune I really did through in the bin. I made a point of flashing My Fucking Father that paper; if he ever asks me why I went to the back a second time, I would tell him that I reached into the bin and grabbed that section of the paper because I wanted to read that story for a long, long time.
Oh, and in case he wanted to rummage through the bin to make sure I actually did throw all my stuff away, I took my parents' bag of recyclables and threw those in the bin as well. He'd have to be fucking crazy to go through all that shit to see if I was telling the truth.
We'll see if it works.
---
Trying to wait My Fucking Father out took a half-hour, and by the time I executed my successful (?) plan I had a half-hour to get to the game. It was going to be close, but I was determined to make it. Unfortunately, the road closures to get to 35W derailed my plans. First I had to pass up getting there from 694 East. Then I thought I could get on 694 West and do a U-turn, but that ramp was closed too. So I had to get on 94 East and drive like a bat out of hell through downtown in order to try and make it.
No, I wasn't going to make it. Got kind of close, though. Technically I was on Cleveland Ave. about five minutes to 1. But there was one final wrinkle. I was at the stoplight at County Rd. B, and from there, the road narrows from two lanes to one. Normally, those on the right lane would seamlessly merge into the lane, and any cars in the left lane would allow those cars to merge -- you know, like civil grown-ups.
I didn't get that grown-up. No, the car who was supposed to fall behind me decide he wanted to be a dick and not let me in. The right disappeared before he would fucking slow down and open up a hole for me. I had to drive through brush before he would let me in. Why in the hell did I have to run into this entitled road rage asshole who thought he didn't have to let me in? Was he trying to be a tough guy? Did he want to enforce the rules of the road? Was it because he didn't think the lane narrowed to one? Was it because I didn't put on my turn signal?
That asshole pulled a right and zoomed down Roselawn. But at this point I'm not sure if he was going to the soccer match as well. It was a huge waste to go all this way and not go to the game, but at this point I had reason to fear for my life. Plus, I wasn't getting to the pitch before the contest started. So, I aborted that. I went to Ruby Tuesday to catch most of the men's basketball Gold Medal Game, and now I'm here at the Rosedale library about to post this. I'm going to get a gas coupon and put all this stuff in storage before heading home.
Not a great day. Too bad because it's sunny but not humid.
No comments:
Post a Comment